


Under Watchful Stars

by LacunaChronicles (BabylonsFall)



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Nightmares, more towards Gen but they're getting there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonsFall/pseuds/LacunaChronicles
Summary: Just some emotional processing of nightmares in places best left alone.(set sometime after book 2, but before book 3)
Relationships: Detective/Adam du Mortain, Male Detective/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Under Watchful Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Figured I might as well cross-post if I'm going to start writing on tumblr for the Wayhaven Chronicles! And I like how this first piece came out, so hey!

He thought it’d smell like bleach, honestly.

He didn’t know why. There was no real reason for it to. They had actual magic at their disposal. Why would they stoop to bleach? And, even if they had, it had been months. There was nothing left of whatever they had used - the place smelled only of mildew and green, a bit of sharp rust where the rainwater from a couple nights ago had gathered in scattered puddles.

Santi had found a dry spot, marred only by dirt and dried up leaves. He’d plopped down without much thought for either once he’d made sure whatever magic they’d worked had gotten rid of the stains in the old cracked concrete. The only sign left from the whole incident was the hole in the ceiling.

Well. That might not be entirely true. But whatever bravado had led him here hadn’t quite given him enough courage to go check the back rooms to see if they’d left the equipment.

Instead, he stayed in the large, quiet cavern of a room, staring up at the pinpricks of stars through the ceiling. It was a clear night, and the moon was little more than a sliver - there was no light about, this deep in the woods, to hide them.

He felt...exposed, under their watch. Exposed, but... _okay_. And he hadn’t felt that in a long while.

Something was watching, and that something didn’t _care_ where he was. Didn’t care where he went, didn’t care why he did something.

And, sure, maybe he was giving way too much agency to balls of gas thousands of lightyears away, but he liked the feeling it gave him, so he didn’t much care. No one was around to judge him for it right now anyway.

Under the stars’ watchful but uncaring gaze, he let his head tip back against the wall, his eyes slipping closed. Of all the places he could’ve picked, he felt safer here than he had in weeks in his apartment. Not even the warehouse had quite given him this moment - sure, he felt safe there. How could he not, with four vampires that had at least some interest in his well being and 24/7 security features?

But his place at the warehouse was still _new_. And it looked exactly like his apartment.

He’d woken up there the two nights before from another nightmare, and he’d had to get out. He’d gotten a text at the station asking after him, for disappearing that morning, but when he’d said he’d had to get in early, it had dropped easy enough.

Then he’d tried to sleep in his own apartment the night before, he’d found it impossible and ended up spending most of the night on the couch watching netflix and pointedly not looking at the mirror that was still covered. And tonight...tonight he’d just needed to walk away. Had thrown on one of his growing collection of hoodies and headed out with no real plan in mind. It’s too hot a night for it - but like hell Santi would go without these days.

It wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last most likely.

It was the first time his wandering had brought him here though, so, hey, he’d give credit to his subconscious for the variety at least.

There’s no sound to indicate he’s no longer alone there, under the stars. If asked how he knew without opening his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to explain. Maybe he’s just spending too much time with vampires. Maybe he’s just getting used to them.

“Honestly? I was expecting one of you earlier.” He mumbles into the quiet, not bothering to open his eyes. It was true - he’d actually expected one of them yesterday, when he’d stopped answering texts about midday. They were okay with the whole concept of personal space, up until contact was cut completely. It was one of their...endearing qualities, most days.

He can _feel_ the glare being leveled at him. It would normally make him smile - just a little. Tonight, he doesn’t have the energy. “Can you save the yelling for tomorrow? I’ll even listen to the first half of it, if you like.” It’s a lie, and they both know it. Santi always listens.

There’s finally a sound - a carefully controlled exhale as Adam makes a decision. More sounds then, as Adam drops down to sit beside him, rustling up leaves and dirt against the concrete - and then back to silence.

Santi had wanted to be alone, he knew, on some level. But, honestly? Having Adam at his side helps him relax just that last little bit - that tiny, ever present anxiety wriggling at the back of his mind finally going, blissfully, quiet.

He lets the silence sit for a long couple of moments before he has to ask. “How?”

Adam doesn’t answer, and he finally cracks one eye open to look at him. He looks decidedly uncomfortable - for Adam at least. “...Phone?” he asks, as nonchalantly as he can manage. Adam grimaces and nods, so he just snorts and closes his eye again. “Don’t worry. I’ll still keep it with me.” If he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d heard a sigh of relief.

“Why?” Adam finally asks, after another long stretch of undisturbed night sky between them.

“Gonna have to be more specific there.” Santi offers back. Another glare he can feel, and this time the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“...Why did you stop answering? Mason was worried.”

Santi hums softly, shrugging a shoulder. “Just...needed to get away for a bit, that’s all.”

“Thursday morning?” It’s not a sure question, more like a sudden realization.

“I left around three that morning.” He’d been a little surprised he’d managed to get out without anyone noticing. But, then, they all had their own little corners they stuck to, if they weren’t all together. He’d picked up their patterns within the first couple of weeks. Had a sneaking suspicion, after this, that they’d at least try to change it up. That thought didn’t aggravate him nearly as much as it probably should.

“Did I..we do something?” And this one’s softer. Worried. That has Santi opening his eyes to meet Adam’s.

“No.” There’s the slightest twitch to Adam’s shoulders as they drop just that fraction. “Needed to get away from my own head for a bit.” And he’s so going to regret admitting this, but...well. Adam’s right there. And he feels safer than he has in a long while. “It’s...not the first time it’s happened.” Well, he’s tense again. Shit.

Santi sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “If it helps at all, this is the first time I’ve come here? Normally I just hang out on my couch until it goes away. If it’s really bad, I’ll go to the diner down the street and hang out there until I’m needed somewhere.” And, maybe, once or twice, he’s just wandered the woods until his mind quieted. He hasn’t done that since Murphy though, so he keeps that one to himself.

That seems to mollify him, at least enough that he’s no longer staring at him. Santi eyes him for another long moment to make sure he’ll actually accept that answer before letting his head drop back against the wall again, looking up at the stars.

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. “...You want to ask the other ‘why’?” he offers.

Adam doesn’t answer, but he does see him look back over from the corner of his eyes, a frown pulling at his lips. Santi says nothing more, just waiting. There’s what sounds suspiciously like an annoyed huff, and the barest tilt of a nod after it becomes clear that Santi won’t continue without an answer of some kind.

And Santi...Santi could lie. Knows he could. Can taste it, at the back of his throat, like oil bubbling up from the sinking feeling in his chest. Knows the lie well enough that he’d likely get away with it too.

_He doesn’t know. He wasn’t thinking about it. It’s nothing._

He’s been telling himself the same damn lie for the last couple of months. Because honestly? It wasn’t a complete lie.

Sure, he’s been thinking about it. Yes, it’s something. But he doesn’t know _why_.

Murphy was caught. He helped with that. Murphy’s currently locked away, and though the method of containment still makes him shudder, it does mean that Murphy can’t come get him.

He came here _because_ Murphy can’t come get him. This chapter of his life was _done_.

So why didn’t it feel like that? Why did he still dream of that night? Of teeth sinking into his throat and tearing free? Of bleeding out and...and not waking up. Of seeing Adam above him, and not being able to make out his face. Only just being able to hear him.

He doesn’t remember what he’d said to Adam. Knows he’d said _something_.

But his dreams always end with him closing his eyes, and falling.

“Santiago?” Adam’s voice is low, almost soft again. Too curled around concern to quite make it there.

“Because it’s done. Murphy’s gone. Nothing new is going to come crawling out of the woodwork here.” But they might, in his apartment. Hell, there was a reason his mirror was still covered, even if the Maa-alused had signed the treaty. Some nights he looked around his room - both in the apartment and at the warehouse - and just...wondered. And it was never a pleasant experience, realizing just how much he doesn’t know.

Normally? He was excited about the supernatural world. It was huge, and grand, and fucking terrifying - sometimes in the best way possible, and sometimes in the regular way that made him feel weak.

Either way, what he said doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, and he knows it. But finds he has no more energy to elaborate. And whether Adam understood him, or understands _him_ , in that moment, he doesn’t push any further. Instead, Santi sees him turn his eyes to the stars, letting the silence and stars between them settle back into place.

There’s a buzzing that breaks that weighted but comfortable quiet, a little while later, and Adam looks annoyed at the culprit when he pulls it from his pocket. Santi’s feeling better enough to openly smile at the familiar look.

“...It’s Felix.”

“Mm. Wondering where you are?”

“Wondering where _we_ are.” Adam huffs back before tapping away some answer. Santi’s not too worried about another three vampires crashing in, if only because of the way Adam silences his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. When he sees Santi’s look, he rolls a shoulder. “Told him we’d be back in a little while.”

There’s a question in there somewhere, so Santi nods. He’s feeling better. Not entirely there yet, wherever _there_ is, but better.

They don’t move again until the sky starts to turn a bruised purple, stars slowly fading from sight as dawn creeps closer. Santi’s almost sad to see them go.

“It’s getting warmer out.” Adam says, in that special, disinterested way he has, as he stands and offers a hand to help Santi up. It’s such a practiced tone Santi sometimes wonders if he came by it naturally or not.

“Yeah.” Is all he gives in return as he takes the man’s hand. Adam hauls him up like he weighs nothing, and he should be annoyed about it, but, honestly? It’s comforting, in it’s own way, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

Especially not when Adam’s glaring at him again. Santi just gives him a lopsided smile in return. They both know the hoodies are new. Santi because he bought the damn things, and Adam...well, Adam can probably still smell the store on them. The crisp not-bleach scent that tends to follow most new clothes around that haven’t had time to get washed and broken in just yet.

The one he’s wearing now is nothing special. A size too big, a hood that bunches around his neck, plain black in color, like most of the ones in his closet right now. It’s nothing.

And he hasn’t been able to walk out of the apartment without one in months.

“Scars take time to heal. But you have to let them.” Adam says, as he heads for the entrance, waiting an almost imperceptible moment for Santi to join him. It’s still careful, still skirting the issue, but Santi’s grateful for it right now.

“I know. Just...need a little bit more time is all.” He doesn’t mean it to come out pleading, but he winces as he hears it.

Adam hums, a hand brushing Santi’s arm so lightly it’s probably an accident. Probably. Not likely.

When they make it outside, Santi pauses long enough to take one more real, long look at what’s left of the stars above.

“...It’s technically tomorrow. You can yell at me now if you like.” He says as he starts walking again, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets. He knows Adam hears the unspoken _thank you_ when he laughs that small, delightfully gentle laugh he has, shaking his head and walking beside him again.

“Not this time, I think.” There’s a beat. “But please don’t disappear like that again.” And it’s so stern that all Santi can do is laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 💛 You can find my Wayhaven nonsense [here](https://chroniclesinlacuna.tumblr.com/)


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